


We Slept Before The Storm Had Died Down

by nothing_rhymes_with_ianto



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: angst_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto/pseuds/nothing_rhymes_with_ianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's managed to get a boat back to Europe, but the waters are unlucky and there is no defence against the Toclofane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Slept Before The Storm Had Died Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "drowning" square of angst_bingo.

He’s been travelling for weeks, running since the team decided it would be better to split up. He’s made it to Israel and is about to get on a boat in Ashkelon to cross the Mediterranean Sea and get back to Europe. The people on the boat are a hodge podge of languages and cultures. English is mostly spoken, but often they must resort to hand signals and pantomime, something Owen has gotten used to in the past few weeks.

There’s no room left on the boat, but Owen’s managed to get on anyway because he’s a doctor. There’s a sick child on the boat, a little Israeli boy named Samuel who speaks English well and tells him his symptoms and pains in a clear voice. Owen is immediately attached to the child, drawn to his large, dark eyes and the hesitant smile that peeks through even with the pain and fear all around.

“It’s going to be okay _sadiqi_ ,” Owen reassures the boy, utilizing the bits of foreign languages he’s learned already. “I’ll take care of you.”

Samuel nods trustingly and lets Owen examine him. Owen hasn’t got many supplies left anymore. He lost a load in Tibet when the Toclofane first came. Getting to Europe is his first priority, because he’s heard rumours that there are loads of medical supplies still circulating there. He can get Samuel back to health if he can get there.

Samuel’s family is dead. His parents were killed in the first wave of Toclofane. His little sister ran away when the orbs came and never returned. Samuel was left to fend for himself until he found a group of travellers and joined them. Now they’re on their way to Europe and Owen hopes they’ll make it.

Owen watches Samuel sleep, making sure he stays that way and doesn’t wake from nightmares in the night. He feels almost normal in the cabin of the boat, watching a sleeping child.

“How is he?” Asks a Russian woman as she joins him in the doorway. Owen guesses she’s about twenty. Her blue eyes are big and full of fear; a lock of brown hair falls out of her Pavlovsky scarf and covers one eye. She brushes it back and hums appraisingly at the sleeping boy.

“He’s holding his own for now. He needs medicine. Penicillin and other things. We need to get to the other side before we can get him those things. I haven’t much.”

Samuel’s illness seems to have plateaued for now, which Owen is glad of. He only hopes it won’t get worse before they reach land. At night, he speaks in hushed tones to the others on the boat. They’ve all heard of a Martha Jones who is trying to save them all, a Martha Jones who is telling a story that will rescue them all. But even with that reassurance, fear ripples in waves through the group and Owen has to consciously remember not to succumb to the terror. He has to stay strong.

He’s woken in the night by a harsh cry. His first instinct is to look across the room to Samuel, but the boy is sleeping soundly despite the tiny little wheeze. So Owen puts on his shoes and coat and heads up to the deck. There’s a cluster of people on the deck. A space opens as he approaches and he fills it.

“What’s going on?”

“A lookout spotted a bunch of those spheres, those Toclofane.”

“What are we going to do?” A young woman asks.

“The best bet is to jump into the water and hang on to the side of the boat.” says the captain of the boat in a hushed tone. “If they come near, duck under the water and hold your breath for as long as you can.”

“That’s not much,” Owen comments sceptically.

“It’s the only chance we have. It’s worked once before. Those things didn’t think to look in the water.”

Owen concedes. He’s got no control here, anyway, no say in things like he did with the team.

“Go wake up anyone who’s still asleep. I’ll set up the ropes so you can get in the water and hold on.”

Everyone disperses. Owen hurries down to the little room he’s sharing with Samuel. The little boy is still asleep, and Owen hates to disturb him, but shakes him awake.

“Samuel, you need to wake up.”

“What? What’s happened?”

“The Toclofane are coming and we have to hide,” Owen explains as he helps Samuel put his shoes on. “I know that you’re very brave, so I want you to come with me and don’t make a sound. We need to hide in the water so they won’t come look for us.”

They hurry out of the cabin and onto the deck. The buzzing hum of the Toclofane is louder now, and Owen can hear the high pitched voices as he lowers Samuel into the water.

“Stay there, _sadiqi_. Wait till I get in the water.”

Owen lowers himself down the rope, hand over hand. After a moment’s thought, he simply lets go and drops into the ocean. It’s cold, deeply, freezing cold, and for a moment his muscles seize up in shock, but he remembers that he must stay moving, treading water.

He swims over to Samuel, who is dog-paddling in circles to stay afloat. “Hold on to my shoulders. I’ll keep us afloat.”

He wraps one arm around the little boy’s torso and places the other on the side of the boat, kicking his legs in circles to keep his head out of the water. The buzzing of the Toclofane is nearly deafening now.

“They’re here,” Samuel whispers in his ear, and Owen nods.

“Listen to me,” Owen whispers back, “When I say ‘go,’ I need you to take a big breath and hold it for me, okay?”

Samuel nods. The hair on the back Owen’s neck is standing on end, from the grating, terrifying sound of the spheres as much as from the cold. The creatures are only metres away, and Owen whispers “Go!” and breathes deeply before he plunges himself and Samuel under the surface of the sea.

The sharp whine of the Toclofane is muffled by the water, but Owen can still make out the high-pitched voices cackling and talking in a sing-song tone. His lungs feel squeezed, and Samuel is holding tight to his middle, clutching to him and shaking. Owen stays under until he can feel Samuel’s body begin to struggle and his own lungs burn and shake, and then he breaches into the air. They take huge breaths together, gulping in much-needed oxygen, hands over their mouths to decrease the sound.

Owen is nearly numb now, his limbs tingling, and his legs are beginning to feel wobbly and tired. The Toclofane are still flitting about, and he hugs the side of the boat to stay out of sight. Something tells him that the spheres are perfectly aware of the presence of humans in the water, that they’re hanging about just to watch them sink.

He can see some of the others in the water, their heads bobbing just above the water. He’s always been a strong swimmer, and even he is feeling tired. He’s almost certain that some have already disappeared into the deep.

The Toclofane have been circling for what feels like hours. Samuel has tucked his face into Owen’s neck and is crying softly. Owen takes his hand off the boat and puts it on Samuel’s head, petting his hair to comfort him. He stares down at the black hair, just a darkish splotch against the dark of the sea, and wishes things were different.

Owen’s entire body has long since gone numb. He and Samuel have both stopped shivering, and he knows that’s a bad thing. He’s kicks are slower, weaker, and both their heads are tilted back into the air. The boat has floated away some, but Owen and the others are too weak to swim back out to it. They’re cold and stiff and numb and all the strength has bled out of them and into the sea. And still the Toclofane circle.  
  
It really has been hours, and night is only just starting to lighten. Owen stares up at the sky and knows that’s no hope. He can feel the energy draining out of his limbs. The quiet splashes of others have long since quieted, and he knows he and Samuel are the last. He can’t feel the tears sliding down his cheeks but he knows they’re there. He pets Samuel’s hair again and the boy looks up at him, big brown eyes filled with tears of his own.

“I’m sorry, Samuel.”

The little boy hugs him and buries his face in Owen’s neck again. “It’s okay, _abouya_.”

Owen lets himself sink, his arms wrapped around Samuel. They hug each other tighter, fighting the urge to rise and breathe. Owen pushes down the panic rising inside him, knowing it won’t help. He feels like his throat is closing, like his lungs are squeezed, shrinking. He can feel himself growing heavier, the lack of oxygen to his brain making him tired and cold. He opens his eyes under the water and sees, in the first breaking light of the morning, Samuel in front of him, eyes closed, expression peaceful. He opens his mouth and breathes in, looking down into the dark ahead of him. He pulls Samuel’s body close and lets himself sink into cold blackness.  
______________

  
 _Sadiqi_ is Arabic for "my friend" or "buddy".  
 _Abouya_ is Arabic for "daddy".


End file.
